Theodore woke the next morning to the warmth of sunlight filtering through heavy curtains and the faint chirping of birds outside. The soft bed and plush blankets cocooned him in comfort, but the peaceful moment was short-lived. A polite knock broke the silence.
"My lord, I'm coming in," Belial's deep voice called from the other side. Without waiting for a response, the demon butler entered, carrying a silver tray laden with toast, eggs, and a steaming cup of tea.
"Good morning, my lord. I trust you slept well?" Belial said as he set the tray down and began opening the windows. A gentle breeze swept into the room, carrying the scents of fresh grass and dew.
Theodore rubbed his eyes, still groggy. The sight of the well-prepared breakfast made his stomach rumble. "Yeah, I slept fine. But did you actually make this?"
"Not quite, my lord. It was Miss Mimi who prepared it," Belial replied, his tone betraying a hint of amusement.
As Theodore picked up the tea, he glanced at Belial with a smirk. "You know, for a demon, you've got some pretty refined manners. First time we met, you were practically a barbarian. Now, you're a model butler. It's almost funny."
Belial chuckled, his sharp teeth glinting faintly in the sunlight. "Years ago, I was tamed by a noble—a young man. I served him faithfully for many years, until his untimely death."
Theodore's brow furrowed as curiosity flickered across his face. (A human was able to tame someone like Belial?)
"Was he the Disciple of Shadows?" Theodore asked, leaning forward slightly.
Belial's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression. "No, he wasn't. But he was a powerful mage. Strong enough to defeat me in battle, though I'd never admit it to his face." His voice softened, and an almost nostalgic sadness crept into his features. "Annoying, but… special in his own way."
The room fell silent, the weight of Belial's words lingering in the air. Theodore observed him for a moment, seeing a side of the demon he hadn't expected.
(So even someone like Belial has people he cared about. I wonder what happened to that mage…)
Breaking the heavy silence, Theodore quickly finished his tea and stood. "You can tell me the rest of your story another time. Right now, I've got classes to attend."
Belial nodded, a faint smile returning to his face. "Of course, my lord. I wish you a good day—and a safe return."
Stepping into the dormitory hallway, Theodore was immediately greeted by the bustling energy of the other students. The corridor was alive with chatter, laughter, and the occasional burst of magic as some older students practiced spells.
As Theodore walked, whispers followed him like a shadow.
"Isn't that Prince Theodore?"
"I heard he was sick . How is he even walking around now?"
"Bet Caden spared him out of pity. He'll just end up being his punching bag again."
Theodore's sharp ears caught every word, but he didn't so much as flinch. His face remained stoic as he walked past groups of gawking students, leaving their murmurs behind.
Exiting the boys' dormitory, he joined the flow of students heading toward the main building at the center of the campus. The school grounds were vast and meticulously designed. Towering marble statues of legendary mages lined the cobblestone paths, and ornate lampposts shaped like mana crystals illuminated the way.
Ahead, the main building loomed like a fortress. Its grand double doors were wide open, allowing students to stream inside. The building's architecture was both majestic and imposing, with high arches, stained-glass windows depicting magical battles, and intricate carvings of mana circles along the stone walls.
Inside, the school was just as lively. The corridors were wide enough to accommodate the crowd of students moving between classes. Some lingered in corners, practicing spells, while others laughed and cheered as friends showed off their skills.
Theodore climbed the spiraling staircase, his leather boots echoing softly against the polished stone steps. Reaching the second floor, he spotted his classroom—First Grade Class A—marked by a gold-plated sign above the door.
As he approached, he felt the weight of stares from his classmates, their whispers unmistakable.
"Isn't that Theodore? I thought he wasn't coming back to school."
"Caden's going to eat him alive this semester."
"Didn't he fight someone yesterday? What's up with him?"
Theodore turned his head slightly, and the group immediately averted their gazes, pretending to be preoccupied. Ignoring them, he entered the classroom.
The room was vast, with tiered, circular seating that ascended like an arena. Each row of seats was carved from smooth white wood, with gold accents gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. At the center stood the teacher's desk, placed in front of a large blackboard.
Theodore scanned the room, his sharp gaze catching the sneers and whispers of the nobles and commoners alike.
"What's he doing here?"
"Why hasn't he dropped out yet?"
But Theodore paid them no mind. His attention shifted to the back of the room, where an empty seat awaited him.
In another corner, the three boys from the previous day sat quietly. Their faces were pale, and their eyes darted nervously toward Theodore. The leader clenched his fists under the desk, muttering a curse.
"Shit…" he hissed, recalling the humiliation of having his arm broken.
Theodore's lips curled into a subtle smirk as he passed them, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. He took his seat, leaning back casually as the classroom buzzed with unease.
(Let them talk. Soon enough, they'll learn.)
Theodore's jaw tightened as he watched Vivian stroll into the classroom. The girl he had encountered just the night before, with her strange dual personality and persistent nature, was now here.
We're in the same class? Seriously? he thought, groaning internally.
Vivian's sharp eyes immediately found him. With a sweet smile that completely ignored his warning from the night before, she walked up to him and casually sat down beside him. "Good morning, Theodore. How was your night?" Her tone was cheerful, almost teasing.
The classroom erupted in murmurs.
"When did Vivian get close to him?"
"She's usually so timid… this is weird."
Theodore didn't care about the stares, but Vivian's presence grated on him. (Is this her other personality trying to provoke me? Or is it actually her?) he thought. (Either way, how did a kid like her even get cursed?)
He exhaled sharply, trying to keep his composure. "Vivian, didn't I tell you to stop being annoying? I'm pretty sure I warned you yesterday."
Vivian's cheeks flushed, though it was clear she wasn't embarrassed. If anything, she seemed amused by his cold indifference. "Being cold won't scare me away, Theodore. After all, we're classmates now, so we might as well get along, don't you think?"
Her words only made the whispers grow louder.
"You're really testing my patience," Theodore muttered, standing abruptly. Without a second glance, he walked to the other side of the room and sat next to a boy with round glasses, messy black hair, and timid blue eyes. The boy seemed so out of place he might as well have been invisible.
The boy flinched when Theodore sat down. His voice was quiet but filled with disbelief. "Why… why did you even come back to school, my prince?"
Theodore ignored the tone, brushing off imaginary dust from his sleeve. "I don't like being touched. Don't do it again," he said flatly as he noticed the boy's nervous hands reaching toward him.
The boy huffed and adjusted his glasses. "You've been acting strange. Did you hit your head or something?"
Theodore smirked. "What's your name?"
The boy blinked. "You forgot? We've been classmates for years!"
Theodore leaned back, masking his ignorance with a quick lie. "I was sick for so long my memory's a little fuzzy."
Though unconvinced, the boy eventually sighed. "I'm Jin. I'm a noble, but I can't share my family name—it's… complicated."
"Your family doesn't interest me," Theodore replied curtly. "Tell me about the class. Specifically, who were the ones that bullied me?"
Jin tilted his head, his glasses slipping slightly. "Bullied you? Isn't that obvious? The main person making your life hell is your younger stepbrother—Caden. Don't you remember? He's the one who ruined your life here."
Theodore's curiosity piqued. (So, my stepbrother is the mastermind behind everything? Interesting.)
Before Theodore could press further, the classroom door burst open, and the chatter of a group of girls filled the room. Squeals and excited whispers accompanied the arrival of a boy with blonde hair, piercing red eyes, and an angelic face twisted into a confident smirk.
"Speak of the devil," Jin muttered, his voice dropping. "That's your stepbrother—Caden."
Theodore's gaze sharpened as he studied Caden. The resemblance to his stepmother was uncanny, though the red eyes came from their father. Memories of the original body stirred, painting a vivid picture of the torment Caden had inflicted over the years.
Caden strutted over like he owned the room, his smirk growing as he spotted Theodore. With a casual arrogance, he perched on the edge of Theodore's desk.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't the cursed boy," Caden drawled. "I thought you'd finally keeled over from your illness. But here you are—alive and still as weak as ever."
When Theodore didn't react, Caden's smirk faltered. Annoyed, he reached out and grabbed Theodore's hair.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!"
The classroom erupted in laughter.
"We're about to see Theodore cry again," someone sneered.
But Theodore's patience snapped. His cold, calculated rage boiled to the surface as he slapped Caden's hand away with enough force to make him stagger.
Caden blinked in disbelief. "What the—?"
Theodore stood slowly, his expression icy. "So you're Caden," he said, his voice calm but menacing. "If I were you, I'd head back to your seat like a good little boy."
The classroom fell silent, the air thick with tension. Caden's face darkened, his pride clearly wounded.
"What's this?" Caden sneered. "Acting tough now, are we? Do you need me to remind you who's in charge? Do you want me to—"
Before he could finish, Theodore's memories surged—painful fragments of the original body's past. He saw the poison at age five, the relentless bullying, and the smug smirk Caden wore every time he tormented him.
Theodore's anger exploded. Without hesitation, he grabbed Caden's wrist and twisted.
CRACK.
Caden screamed, clutching his broken arm as the class stared in stunned silence.
Theodore didn't stop there. He grabbed Caden by the collar, lifting him effortlessly, and slammed him into the classroom's blackboard with enough force to crack the wood.
"Didn't I tell you to leave me alone and go back to your seat like a good boy?" Theodore growled, his tone deadly.
The other students froze, their mouths agape. The cursed boy—the one they had mocked and ridiculed—had just humiliated Caden, the golden child of the academy.
Caden groaned weakly, unable to move.
Theodore turned his cold gaze to the three boys who had bullied him the previous day. "Take him to the infirmary," he ordered, his voice sharp.
The trio scrambled to obey, dragging Caden's limp body out of the room.
As the door slammed shut behind them, the classroom remained silent. No one dared to speak or even look at Theodore directly.
He calmly returned to his seat, leaning back as if nothing had happened.
(Let's see if anyone else feels brave enough to try.)
Jin sat frozen, his face pale with fear, unable to meet Theodore's gaze. Theodore leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. But beneath the satisfaction, he felt a pang of frustration. (I'm a 30-year-old man dealing with kids. This is beyond embarrassing.)
Moments later, the teacher arrived, sweeping into the classroom with a commanding presence. "Welcome back to school, students," she said, her voice calm yet sharp enough to demand attention. "This is your final semester. Do your best to prove yourselves worthy of the education you've been given."
The teacher's name was Miss Dalia—a fifth-circle magician, known for her expertise in elemental magic. She was poised and elegant, with a quiet but intimidating aura that made even the rowdiest students sit up straighter. Her long, deep-green robes shimmered faintly, hinting at the magical runes woven into the fabric.
As Miss Dalia's piercing gaze swept over the class, Theodore felt an unsettling sensation. Her presence was like a subtle storm, her mana radiating power and control. (What is this strange energy coming from her? It's not just mana… this entire school is crawling with mysterious people.)
The class progressed smoothly, though Theodore kept stealing glances at the teacher. There was something about her that made his instincts scream caution.
When class ended, Theodore waited until the room cleared before following Miss Dalia to her office. She noticed him trailing behind and raised a curious eyebrow.
"Oh my," she said with a faint smile, her tone laced with surprise. "Prince Theodore. It's rare to see you healthy and attending class again. What can I do for you?"
"I need a private meeting," Theodore replied, his tone calm and measured, carrying a maturity that seemed out of place for his age.
Miss Dalia blinked, caught off guard. The Theodore she remembered was timid and unsure of himself. The boy standing before her now exuded confidence and authority. "A private meeting… with me?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
"Yes," Theodore said firmly.
After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. "Very well. Follow me."
Miss Dalia's office was an elegant space filled with bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. The scent of parchment and herbs lingered in the air, and the warm glow of enchanted lamps bathed the room in soft light. A desk sat near the window, neatly organized, while a small seating area with plush sofas and a low table occupied the center of the room.
Theodore settled into one of the sofas, his posture relaxed but his mind sharp. Miss Dalia moved to a corner of the room where a kettle sat on a magical heating pad. As she prepared tea, the faint sound of boiling water filled the air.
She placed a cup before Theodore and poured the tea, the light aroma wafting between them.
Theodore took a sip and nodded. "The tea is fragrant," he remarked. "It reminds me of the sea."
Miss Dalia paused, surprised by the comment. "It's from a coastal continent," she said slowly, studying him.
Theodore set the cup down with deliberate care. "I didn't come here to talk about tea," he said, his voice firm. "I've already mastered basic magic. My circle is at the fourth."
Miss Dalia froze, her eyes widening. "Fourth? At your age?"
Without waiting for permission, she reached forward and pressed her hand lightly against his chest. Her eyes flared with mana as she examined the circles surrounding his heart.
Her expression shifted from disbelief to astonishment. "It's true… Four circles," she whispered. "And… wait… you can use aura as well?"
Theodore gave a faint smile, unbothered by her shock.
Miss Dalia pulled her hand back as if she had touched something hot. "This is… unprecedented. A child wielding both aura and magic? And at the fourth circle, no less!"
Theodore leaned forward slightly. "That's why I'm here," he said. "I want to advance classes. This first-year curriculum isn't worth my time."
Miss Dalia hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. "Advancing classes isn't as simple as you make it sound," she said carefully. "Your request will have to go through the council for approval."
She straightened, her expression stern. "And one more thing—no more breaking arms."
Theodore smirked, leaning back into the sofa. (I guess she found out about yesterday.) "As long as no one gets in my way, there won't be a problem."
Miss Dalia sighed, rubbing her temple. "Fine. I'll bring your request to the council. You're dismissed."
Theodore rose, giving her a small nod before leaving the office.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Miss Dalia leaned back in her chair, her thoughts swirling. She had never encountered a student like Theodore before. His talent was beyond anything she had seen in her years as an instructor.
"A prodigy," she murmured, her fingers brushing against the armrest of her chair. "Perhaps even a beacon of hope for this kingdom."
But even as she spoke the words, a nagging feeling tugged at the edges of her mind. There was something off about the boy—something dark and untamed lurking beneath the surface.
Unbeknownst to her, the student she saw as a potential savior was no hero. He was chaos incarnate—a force of destruction waiting to be unleashed.